


evening by evening.

by miloron (ocoa)



Series: Canvas [4]
Category: NU'EST
Genre: M/M, Thats why we love him, aron is the best big brother, steps towards recovery, welcome to your 2020 update
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-21
Updated: 2020-04-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:28:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,207
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23773108
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ocoa/pseuds/miloron
Summary: In which sometimes time heals, sometimes friends do, sometimes you just need to take a step.
Relationships: Hwang Minhyun/Kim Jonghyun | JR
Series: Canvas [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/824487
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	evening by evening.

**Author's Note:**

> Well,,, hi, long time no see. it's been a while. i'd give my excuses, but all it really came down to was me losing interest in a lot of different things (including writing and kpop, for a long time) and also my greatest nemesis - my terrible self esteem. so i spent some time away from my hobbies, i've picked up reading (books and fanfiction alike) and i thought i was inspired enough to write. which is why this update is a lot more positive than the other chapters. i like this update, i hope it's not too exposition-y
> 
> i no longer have a twitter account but hey if you want to show moral support, please feel free to send some kudos or comments

This was a story from long ago.

_It was a hot day, and Jonghyun could feel the heat building on his neck. They were having class, but he hadn’t quite been paying attention, he was distracted by how bright the sun was that even the old yellow paint of their school seemed to be blinding. Maybe he was getting too used to the darkness of night, earbuds plugged in so he could quietly play games on his own._

_“Oh, that looks nice,” he hears Minki’s voice cut through, and he turns to see Minhyun’s legs propped against his table, sketchpad in the gap made from the artist’s horrible posture. The class must have long ended, and he must have been so deep on his thoughts that he hadn’t noticed his friends pulling their chairs to his. Jonghyun had a sneaking suspicion of the sketch, and he wasn’t too surprised to see his back carefully drawn. The sunlight looked soft, was that how Minhyun saw him?_

_He fought down the flush of his cheeks._

_Minhyun himself was preening under Minki’s praise, before he turned to Jonghyun with anticipation._

_“It looks really good, Minhyun.”_

_His voice is not full of awe. **It’s not.**_

* * *

It’s one of the many fond memories that he has of Minhyun, before he fell in love and everything went to shit. He remembers Minhyun’s smile, which while small held so much emotion Jonghyun could almost taste it. It’s not accurate, he knows, but his friends used to talk about how “he used to look at you like you’re the only thing in the world” and he flounders for a good second.

Now they don’t talk about it, for as long as he doesn’t talk about Minhyun.

Aron, for what it’s worth, takes care of him well, and the exchange switches to an internship when he’s introduced to a professor by Aron who has _connections_. If it’s one thing he doesn’t like about university, it’s that everything is about being connected. He completes most of his credits in New York, and he feels less suffocated in America than Korea. At the end of it all though, he knows New York’s not permanent the way it is with Aron. Maybe that was its charm.

He wants to go home.

Aron sees him off with a promise.

“Call me, if you ever need me.”

“I know.”

Aron pressed his lips, rolling the knee he injured a long time ago in a distracted motion. He takes a breath, smiles at Jonghyun apologetically. “Whatever happens, you know I can’t take sides.”

Jonghyun nods, knowing about the daily calls Aron had been giving Minhyun. He never ever goes close enough to listen, but he can hear the low comforting murmur of Aron’s voice. Sometimes he hears the tail end of a laugh from the other end, but maybe it was a hallucination since Aron’s smile never looks quite right after a call. He doesn’t ask to talk to Minhyun. That was a mistake. In the end they’re still friends. Jonghyun’s feelings were his own, and he’d let it cloud his actions. The time away had taught him that, reminded him that his life wasn’t his own, that his perspective was one in a multitude of others. He only hoped, by some semblance of a miracle, that Minhyun would forgive him for disappearing. His grip tightened on his suitcase handle.

“Hey,” Jonghyun glanced up at Aron, “it’s okay for you to live your life. Minhyun,” he hesitates on the name, “might be our friend, but you don’t have to live your life constantly chasing after him. You are the number one existence in your life. Not him, not anyone else.”

Jonghyun is touched enough that he starts to tear up, and Aron scoops him into a tight embrace before the tears can show.

He’s always knew the signs the best.

* * *

Minhyun’s taken to watching Jonghyun, tracing the contours and dips of skin over bone, filling in shadows and shapes automatically in his head. He doesn’t know if he ever reaches good enough, to draw Jonghyun – who is a study, frankly – as good as he looks, but he loves the smile in his voice when he sees the finished sketch.

In university, he submits his sketches, mostly of Jonghyun, reading, cooking, fighting back a smile.

“This is your friend?” His professor would ask, her eyes narrowing.

Minhyun would nod.

“Interesting, and yet, I don’t feel closeness at all.” Minhyun looked at her, wondering what she meant. “Men are not gods, Mr Hwang. Your friend is not a god, and it does no good to see him as such. Think about it a little more. I’ll hold grading on this, instead I want to see vulnerability in your art. Not a façade.”

He doesn’t understand, but he tries. All the sketches come out the same. He brainstorms, mind-maps, theorises, reads, draws and draws and draws and draws, until his hand was more graphite than skin. Nothing looks right. And it’s not Jonghyun’s fault.

One day he needs to breathe. He feels his throat constrict, so tight he thinks he’s going to die. He doesn’t even know if he tells Jonghyun but he finds himself at the park.

From then on, he repeats his mistake, again. Two-fold. Three-fold. Four times. He disappoints so many people that he wonders what even the point was anymore. He tries to draw, tries to put brush to paper. Tries to dig into himself and wrench it all out. He puts his heart and blood and guts and viscera into it.

He loses everyone, and the piece he gets out of it still feels foreign and terrifying. It feels like him, but a part of him he never wanted to uncover. He stares at the beast, the gaping sense of loneliness that permeated the strokes. He tucks it away in the back of his room, tries again but nothing feels right.

He gives up, keeps lying to keep people off his back. Aron keeps calling, making him video call him during the three meals, even joins him though their hours are so different. He knows Aron cares, knows Minkyung does too, even after they broke up and her friends glare at him whenever they happen to cross paths. He doesn’t feel adequate enough for concern or hate.

About a month after Jonghyun left, Minki appears at his house, taking to cleaning his house every month or so. More often than not, the room comes out a bit tidier but also still all over the place. He forces food and water into Minhyun, before calling Aron when he thinks Minhyun isn’t looking.

Even Dongho messages him once in a while, asking whether he’d be interested in going to his studio to listen to his next mixes. He rejects the first few times, before Minki tells him to get up and get changed.

The outside world feels different when you’ve been hiding in your house for months on end.

The sun is hot, not warm. The sky is bright. The wind blows through his hair. He doesn’t feel right but he feels different, and maybe…

Minki smiles while watching him, hand steady on his shoulder.

Maybe it was the correct step forward.

**Author's Note:**

> reminder: this world is not black and white. it's a myriad of colours. no one is perfect, and no one holds all the fault.


End file.
